Monday 5 February 2024

Sense of Continuity.



re-Printed from November 2011.

I want to fall asleep in front of an open fire that warmed the feet of my grandfather and my grandfather's father. I want to sit back in the comfort of an old wing-backed chair, and snore the contentment of ages past. I want to be accompanied by a faithful old dog, recumbent on the threadbare, once fine, fireside rug, just as it has always been.

I want to look in the mirror and see something of the smile of my long-departed mother's mother. I want to hear the lonely tick of the antique longcase clock, as I take my meals at the table that had been passed through generations.

I want to peruse the faded sepia photos of distant unknown uncles and aunts, buckled behind thick leather covers. I want to admire the same paintings that they admired; portraits, landscapes, carefully arranged flowers.

I want to pick up the small framed photo of my first ever dog, and stroke his image. I want to feel the track of a tear on my cheek as I remember my mother singing a favourite night-time song.

I want to sit quietly in my warm, dimly lit room, and remember those that I once loved; those that probably would no longer remember me. I want to dream of special times, that only I would now consider special.

I want to be aware of my past, in order that it becomes part of my future. I want to feel that I belong to a place to which I was destined to belong.

I want to pick fruit from trees that were planted by men who bore the same name as me, and grow crops in the same soil that they tilled. I want to smell the same roses, cook with the same herbs, and trim the same hedges. I want to tread the same garden path as those that held my hand; and kept me from falling.

I want to be part of continuity, both past and future, and I want my children, and my children's children to be the same.


22 comments:

  1. I just came across this old post, and felt that everything I wrote still applies. So here it is again!

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  2. You want what happens when families grow and live in the same home for generations, with each generation respecting the previous ones and caring for the new ones. Home, hearth and family. I don't think that happens much these days, with people travelling and living in far flung corners of the globe.

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    1. When we first went to live in France in '73, it was still the norm in the countryside. Farmhouses were quite large, and the grandparents looked after the grandchildren. It all worked so well, and everyone always seemed so happy.

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  3. What lovely thoughts and dreams.

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  4. That is beautiful... and a lovely prose-poem!!

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    1. Rambling thoughts. But I believe in all of them.

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  5. This is not the sort of writing I have come to expect from you but I appreciated it. It was rather poetic. There is a sense in which you "want" that place in the chain so much that you have, in reality, already got it.

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    Replies
    1. Maybe it's at arms length, and I just need it to be a little closer.

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  6. Beautiful. All my family and their homes are gone, but I can still picture them if I close my eyes.

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    1. It's a shame isn't it. I do have an old longcase clock that was made for my family back in 1735, and I love the fact that so many family members have listened to the same ticking.

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  7. You have strong generational ties and it is a very nice characteristic. I hope you can pass this on to the generations to come.

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    1. We try to; whether it will work or not I don't know. My family are now spread all around the world.

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  8. Bravo, bravo. Beautiful, oh so beautiful.

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  9. Well written, in the fall I am going to explore my mother's hometown, she never wanted to go back.

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  10. Evocative writing, Cro.

    Many years ago I went back to the village my beloved grandparents brought me up in until I was eight and my grandmother died.

    Revisiting was strange. First of all, what I remembered wasn't true. The walk from, say, where we lived to the next two corners, was very short. Well, it sure wasn't when I was little.

    What had stayed the same? Snow. How I love snow. No doubt the reason I ended up at the South Coast of England - never any snow.

    U

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    1. re Your last para, that's probably why I like Sussex so much; we have very little snow. I can't stand the stuff!

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  11. Cro, I like this! Glad you reprinted it... must have missed it before. I think a lot of us feel this way.

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    Replies
    1. I found it by chance, and thought that it still applies today.

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